


Best Served Cold

by TottWriter



Series: Travellers AU [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (what the hell am I doing starting another AU), Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I had altogether too much fun writing this, Tanaka isn't straight-up named in this one but it's him, all the best friendships start when you trick someone into eating a food they hate, time travel pranks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10002149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TottWriter/pseuds/TottWriter
Summary: It starts with a counterfeit mint from a stranger. By the time he ends up on his backside in a pond, smarting from a succession of practical jokes, Chikara has had more than enough of being pranked no matter where or when he goes....Time for revenge.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I write this? Because time travel is my ultimate guilty pleasure, that's why.

The first time Chikara found himself the butt of the mysterious other Traveller’s ‘jokes’, it was unavoidable.  
  
He’d just finished settling in the world after his jump, and the residual nausea hadn’t fully faded when someone poked their head around the alleyway he had appeared in and offered him a mint seeing as he “looked a bit peaky”.  
  
It hadn’t been a mint. Chikara still wasn’t sure _what_ it was, but it had tasted very much like licorice or aniseed, and by the time he had spat it out to the roaring laughter of the stranger, and recovered from the unexpected confrontation with one of his least favourite flavours, the other man had vanished.  
  
_Another Traveller_ , he’d thought. _How wonderful._

 

* * *

 

The second time had been a few months later, a week into his stay in 13th Century Venice. He’d gotten accustomed to the language and strange modes of dress, and was hunting down clues about a possible attempt to assassinate a significant European when a vaguely familiar man with a shaven head had stepped out of a tavern in front of him.  
  
Upon seeing him, the man had let out a delighted cry.  
  
“My friend! So good to see you again!” he’d cried, his accent flawless. “Tell me, tell me, what brings you to Venice this century?”  
  
“Century?” Chikara replied, eyes narrowing. Now that he looked closely, the man’s Italian complexion had the haze of illusion about it. He tensed.  
  
The other man looked past him, and then grinned. “Well, time for me to go,” he said, walking up to Chikara and grabbing him by the hand. He shook it fiercely and said: “Have a nice trip!” before heading straight past him.  
  
Chikara turned around to follow him, only to skid on something slimy which _definitely_ hadn’t been there a moment before. Arms pinwheeling, he toppled backward into the canal and surfaced—spluttering with disgust and dismay—to the sound of rapidly fading laughter as his mysterious assailant ran off.  
  
Still, it could have been coincidence, right? Travellers didn’t often run into one another, not least of all because the myriad different agendas they had throughout the world’s various histories made for a strong desire to keep a low profile. To have met the same man twice suggested they were either allies or rivals—and he was fairly sure he was already acquainted with his allies.  
  
In any event, the European wasn’t assassinated. Chikara moved on, resolving not to dwell on it any more.

 

* * *

 

By the fifth time he had ended up falling foul of the mysterious Traveller’s perverse ‘jokes’ (accidentally ending up holding a stolen chicken just as the local constabulary arrived on the scene; tripping over a Roman senator’s misplaced sandal and pulling off another’s toga; falling into a medieval castle’s cess pit after the seat to the privy had been inexplicably removed _just_ as he needed a quick place to hide), Chikara had begun to get more than a little irked by the whole affair.  
  
They were obviously stalking the same timeline, which meant there was a good chance they would meet again. And by that point, he had a fairly good idea of what the end result of that might be.  
  
  
Three weeks later, as he sat in a shallow pond covered in straggly green plants while ducks swam around him, quacking their protests, he decided it had definitely gotten out of hand.  
  
Time (ahaha) to get serious. What was the one event he could be more or less guaranteed to find the stranger at? So far, all he knew about the man was that he had the worst sense of humour in all history, and seemed to know a _lot_ about his movements.  
  
That probably meant he could be relied upon to show up anywhere. Chikara smiled grimly, and plotted his revenge.

 

* * *

 

Riots were more or less the only events you could guarantee running into other Travellers. The large, anonymous crowds made excellent meeting places, and the noise was usually a good cover for conversations which would otherwise stand out. Chikara moved among the angry mass of Russians, looking out for the familiar sheen of an illusory appearance.  
  
Very probably he ought to have picked a better revolution—one in which the sea of people were _not_ all wearing thick winter gear—but it would have been grossly unfair to pull this sort of stunt at a more dangerous riot. Once he was sure he’d found him, he couldn’t help but grin. Payback time.  
  
A brown wig and high-quality false beard ensured he couldn’t be recognised, so he strode up to Mystery Prankster and clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
“Comrade, let us celebrate!” he called, as the sea of people swarmed forward to the Winter Palace’s gates.  
  
The man looked startled, but Chikara had come prepared. He opened the top part of his coat to reveal a bottle, giving substantial weight to his claim. In the dark, the real beard and low brim of his hat covered the fact he had not blended his appearance with the crowds by illusion. Mystery Prankster grinned, and accepted the bottle gratefully, taking a long drink before freezing with a worried expression as the taste registered.  
  
Chikara bowed, and tugged off the beard and hat. “You may wish to get to a bathroom, _friend_ ,” he said with a grin.  
  
The man stared at him, mortified. “What the hell, man? Who _does_ that kinda shit?”  
  
All too late, Chikara realised there was no recognition on Mystery Prankster’s face. But, no, it _was_ the right person, so…  
  
“My first week out, and _this_ bullshit?” Mystery Prankster cried. “You’re really gonna regret this.”  
  
Mystery Prankster dropped his illusory appearance to reveal his real self and scowled.  
  
“You’d better remember this face coz _man_ , you are getting some serious payback,” he said. His intimidating expression was somewhat spoilt by the awkward groan as he clutched his stomach.  
  
Chikara sighed with resignation, reaching up to rub his temples with one hand. Despite everything, the irony of it all meant he couldn’t hold back a crooked grin.  
  
“I know,” he said dryly. “You already did.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I almost definitely should not be starting more AUs at this point, but the idea of Ennoshita being a long-suffering time-traveller and it being _his own damn fault_ sort of gives me life? Anyway, you can be damn sure that I have more ideas for this, featuring a lot more ridiculous escapades. (Because like hell do the pranks - on either side - end there.)
> 
> I'm not gonna commit to a schedule for writing more of these little ficlets, but at some point I will expand on the universe, and probably add more people to it. (Let's be real, Tanaka _absolutely_ had help with some of those tricks.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my little bit of silliness. It always makes a change for me to be writing something angst-free!


End file.
